


War of Hearts

by oneoneandone



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 12,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27550216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoneandone/pseuds/oneoneandone
Summary: Short (less than 1000 words) stories of Hope and Kelley
Relationships: Kelley O'Hara/Hope Solo
Kudos: 10





	1. Second, Third, and Hundreth Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You were my town  
>  Now I'm in exile seein' you out  
> I think I've seen this film before_

You’ve always had trouble sleeping, even as a child.

Back then, it was the monsters under the bed, the nightmares of a half-remembered hotel room, the worry that the day has finally come when your hopes and desires will finally be too costly for your family to bear.

Back then, you grew on anxiety and darkness, fed on it, gorged yourself with it. Because you thought that learning to live in the shadows would make you stronger, make your skin thick, harden your heart. A weed amid the wildflowers, you felt so, so, alone.

But the night, even wrapped in the taste and feel of worries and fear, the night was always your friend. Sometimes it felt like the only one you had.

The night, the dark, it covers a multitude of sins.

And you’ve used it to your advantage over the years, slipping in and out of places and people and personas. Shedding whatever the light cannot bear as the hours march determinedly toward day.

—

The woman you love is made of light. Of fire and passion and bright, burning joy. 

There were mornings, at first, you could have sworn it hurt to even look at her, sleepy and stretching out her arms to shake off the blanket of night. Her eyes–it was always her eyes that seemed to illuminate the world of your small hotel room. Casting light over all of the dark corners you’d so carefully cultivated.

And you didn’t understand, at first, why it felt so impossible to live beside her, the heat of her warming your skin even from across the room, the field, the whole country after your victorious return. There you’d sit in the middle of the night, the heavy weight of your medal in your palm.

How warm it felt there.

How the golden glow it seemed to exude from its very center reminded you of her.

How the darkness seemed to recede, just at the memory of her warm and welcoming eyes.

You were so afraid of losing. Even now, you don’t know what you thought was worth fighting for, worth running for.

But you did.

Fight.

Run.

Call the darkness back. Call it home.

Except–

Except this time the darkness hurt.

Except this time, the darkness wasn’t enough to cover your sins.

—

The first time, you run. 

As far and as fast as you can. 

You run down the aisle, you run into the arms of a man who has only ever known how to hurt you. And fuck if he isn’t as good at it as you are at hurting yourself. 

You run away in years and miles, in thought and deed, you run. 

But it doesn’t matter. 

None of it–nothing–matters. 

Because when you take a breath, when you slow down to see where it is that you’ve finally ended up, bruised and broken and bowed over in exhaustion and in pain, you see–

You’re exactly where you started.

You’ve spent all this time treading water. Running in place. 

And when you drag up the heavy anchor, when you’ve undone the bindings holding you here you realize what you always, always knew. Deep, deep down, tucked under the memories that haunt and the ache that centers you. 

It’s her. The one you can’t forget, the one you can’t escape from. 

The woman you left, left in order to love.

—

It turns out, the darkness isn’t as strong as the light. Because even as you run from her, even as you betray the words you’d whispered to her in the night, into her skin, into the very heart of her–even as you promise your everything to someone else–she stays.

Kelley stays.

She’s never understood it, how you wear the darkness like a lover. How it knows you inside and out. But she stays with you, her light welcoming you in.

Even as you run from her, from her love so hopeful and heart-wrenchingly pure, she stays. 

—

You should crawl. You should beg, you should barter. You should grovel before her, pleading and praying.

She comes to you.

She comes to you in your dark moment, your darkest.

You have nothing left, you realize as she stands before you, kneels and cups your jaw with her warm, gentle hands.

You have nothing; finally, you have nowhere else to go.

And still, you try to hide. Try to look away, anywhere but the light of her eyes, the warmth of her touch. Anywhere but where she can see what you’ve become.

What you’d left her to become.

“Are you done?” Kelley whispers before you. “Can you stop now?”

And you can feel her, warm and solid and there. There in a way that you’ve never been able to be.

“Can you stay?

—

The truth is that you don’t know.

The part of you that runs, the part of you that lives in darkness, that thrives on the pain and the anger and the loss, it always comes back.

You can bury it, but you know it will never stay gone.

All you know is that while you can, there’s no where else you want to be.

Nowhere but here. No one but her.

And so you give her the only truth you can. The only truth you know she’ll accept.

You’ll stay.

For as long as you can.

And even though you know it won’t be forever, know the darkness will beckon once again, call your name and lead you astray, into the wilderness once again, you promise.

You’ll always let her light lead you home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Exile," Taylor Swift, feat. Bon Iver


	2. Almost, Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _are we a ripple, or a wave that's set in motion?  
>  knockin one moment to the next one as we go?  
> are we a tiny single drop or one big ocean?  
> are we just floating in-between the dominos?  
> are we almost?_

It's not a dream.

It’s not even a nightmare.

It’s a memory. The reminder of the worst days of her life that wakes Hope up in the middle of the night, breathless, her heart racing.

It was an accident. The police report can testify to that. No matter what the tabloids reported, no matter what rumors circulated through social media, in the stands, around locker rooms.

It was an accident.

They’d been on their way home, driving through downtown Atlanta just past sunset, the rain falling and the lights reflecting up from the wet pavement to make the whole world look just a little magical.

The last thing Hope remembered was the light, changing green. That was it, just the flash of green, the cut of headlights across her eyes, and then a nothingness.

Dark and empty and so, so, cold.

——

It was the water that woke her. A steady dripping into her eyes, down her face, tasting of fire and metal and … and blood.

The sound came in next, like a picture coming into focus, bit by bit. First the roaring of the water, and then the shouts around her, the sounds of metal on metal, boots against the hard pavement.

And above that all, or maybe underneath, a sound not quite human. Not quite animal. Some terrifying cross in-between. Filling all the empty space, so palpable Hope is certain she can feel the sound.

Feel it against her skin, raising the hair on her arms and at the back of her neck.

And it won’t go away, the noise. She can’t figure out where it’s coming from, only that it’s somewhere near, somewhere almost just—

And then Hope realized, the words finally cutting through all the other sound.

It was her own voice, screaming, begging, pleading.

Her own voice, filling the silence.

The space where Kelley should be.

And Hope screamed louder.

———

The body next to her shifted in the bed, as if she could feel that Hope was awake, was troubled, was shaking off the dream again.

“Hey,” Kelley reached out a hand to wipe the sweaty strands of hair away from Hope’s clammy forehead. “You okay? The dream again?”

But Hope couldn’t answer, not right away, still blinking away the black void of terror that the dream—the memory—always brought to the surface. The sound of silence amid the din of activity around her as the first responders worked to free her from the tangle of metal and smoke that their car had become.

“Hey,” Kelley whispered again, and reached for Hope’s hand, bringing it up to her chest and placing it over the steady beat of her heart. “It’s over, remember? We’re okay.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, not the first night that Hope’s night demons had woken her in the middle of the night. But what Kelley knew without a doubt was that as long as her heart beat strong and steady, the two of them would be okay.

They would be okay.

———

It was hours before she found Kelley. Before an orderly took her seriously when she threatened bodily harm—to him or to herself—if she wasn’t taken to Kelley’s side immediately. But finally, someone wheeled her across the hospital to the surgical ICU, overriding Hope’s insistence that she could get there herself, broken ankle or not.

Even broken. Even battered, she was beautiful, Kelley was. So pale against the light blue of the soft knit blanket a nurse had so carefully arranged over her prone body, freckles sticking out even more than usual.

Hope looked around at the machines—the lines of the heart monitor, the slow drip of the IV, the catheter at the end of the bed—and felt the suffocating wave of grief threaten. God, if she ever needed Kelley’s reassurance, the way she’d look at Hope sometimes, and laugh, make what ever it was that was troubling the older woman seem so small, so inconsequential, that it didn’t matter at all.

She needed that now, needed to believe in the hope that Kelley has always brought into her life. The laughter and the light.

The orderly left her alone for a moment, warning her that he can only let her stay for a few minutes before the duty nurse will return and shoo them both away. But Hope ignored him. She’d stay as long as she damn well pleased. Until Kelley opened her eyes, bringing the daylight to chase away the nightmare.

Hope scooted her wheelchair as close as she could, and breathed in, just the hint of Kelley’s apricot body scrub under the scent of antiseptic and pain and fear. There was something soothing in watching the woman she loved breathe—in and out, in and out, in and out and in again. Even now. Even like this.

She slipped her hand over Kelley’s arm, careful of the wires there, the monitors. Until she could feel the thrum of Kelley’s heart against the heel of her hand, soft, but steady.

Whatever happened, they were here. They were okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Almost," Daphne Willis


	3. Goodbye (Kelly's Song)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Before I fly and wave goodbye  
>  I say to you "days with you are the best years of my life"  
> But if I don't see you anymore  
> Keep my words safely stored  
> And I'll be back I promise once more_

Death has always sat at the edges of Hope’s consciousness. An early friend, an early enemy.

It’s been there, the understanding that one day it will come.

Honestly, there are some days she thinks she’s spent her whole life preparing for it. Readying herself for the inevitable conclusion. In her darkest moments, sure, but then, too, in her brightest. In her most alive.

Her mind wanders off to think about the years ahead. The years behind. How the latter keeps growing longer, and the former has never looked shorter.

There’s a half-piece of lined paper, torn from her notes on the penalty kick preferences of Sweden’s World Cup team the year her dad passed away. Hastily scribbled notes as she brainstormed the best way to say goodbye to the man she loved the most in her life.

The only person who could ever hurt her more than she could hurt herself.

It’s a mess now, lines scratched out, written over. But the outline, it’s there. What Hope’d wanted for her father.

What she would want for herself.

A solid casket. Nothing fancy. Dark wood, no need for fine trimmings or extravagant fabrics.

Sensible.

Sturdy.

The stoicness a tribute both to the complicated legacy they’d each leave behind.

The one concession she’d made to her heart, her grief, had been in the music.

No softly whispered psalms. No Sunday songbook serenades.

For her father, she’d picked the song that had spoken most to her memories of the man, the good and the bad.

The fire.

The rain.

And it hadn’t mattered, the looks they’d given her. Her mother, her brother, the small collection of frayed and fragile ties the man had left behind. Because she knew in her heart that this was the last page of her father’s chapter in her life.

She’d let the tears fall, and let the chapter close.

There’d been something about that piece of paper, where she’d put down her thoughts on how to best honor him, her father. And so she’d kept it, adding things, over the years, taking others out.

When she’d married Jerramy, Hope’d carefully written out her intention that they be buried together, side-by-side, in some as-yet undetermined location. After the divorce, she’d rubbed out his name, wanting instead to be buried next to her dad. Two people so unlucky in their love, so ultimately alone.

After her grandmother passed, she’d scribbled some ideas for flowers in the margins. Hydrangeas, blue. Lily of the valley, the flower her grandmother had loved all her life. And when Hope’s world had collapsed, just a few short months later, the names of those people she wanted in attendance, the few she’d never lost faith in.

It sat, after, for a long time. Constant witness to the rise and fall of her life, her heart.

Hopes.

Dreams.

Now, now Hope’s found her home. The place where she belongs. Tucked into the corner of a sweet, strong woman’s heart. Held safely in the arms of the only person, Hope thinks, who has ever loved her fully, truly, completely.

Kelley doesn’t laugh when she finds it. She doesn’t look concerned. And the last whisper of a doubt slips out of Hope’s most secret thoughts.

The younger woman skims over the scribbles, the notes. And Hope knows exactly when she sees it, the latest and last addition to her plans.

The most important.

_“Kelley will know what to do.”_

Her lover looks up to her, eyes a little wet, asking questions that Hope is finally, finally ready to answer.

And so Hope sits, and cups her palms around the freckled jaw. “Everything before that part, it’s jut ideas. I trust you, and I know you’ll make the right choices.”

Kelley nods, the tears falling now as she nuzzles into Hope’s palm, nose already red from the embarrassment and the strong emotions running through her.

“Any last requests?” she laughs thickly through the love in her chest, in her throat, on the tip of her tongue.

And Hope leans in and kisses her softly.

“Just one. This song.” And she pulls a pen from the messy bun holding up her lover’s hair, writing the words slowly, deliberately.

Kelley laughs when she sees it, the song.

“You know I’m a Georgia girl,” she kisses Hope soundly. “But if you want it that bad, I’ll make sure you get a little Alabama at your funeral.”

The paper is forgotten then, the swirl of want and need overtaking them both. But Hope finds it again later, as she’s re-making the bed. And for a moment, she pauses, smiling as she reads over the lines again, this little testament to who she was and who she’s become. Odd little memento of her life’s journey.

She kisses it softly, and reaches over to the other side of the bed, for the Bible she knows Kelley keeps there, slipping it in-between the pages where it will be kept safe.

Just like her heart. Her life.

Safe in Kelley’s care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Goodbye (Kelly's Song)," Alabama


	4. A Waltz for the Girl Out of Reach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A waltz for the chance I should take  
>  But how will I know where to start?  
> She's spinning between constellations and dreams  
> Her rhythm is my beating heart_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _o'solo please!! where Hope is the one Kelley is looking for in the stands._

The roar of the crowd echoes throughout the stadium, so loud it ceases to be sound at all but white noise, a focused silence that drowns out everything in the world that isn’t this moment, this field, this feeling. Victory and triumph and pure joy.

But Kelley isn’t paying attention anyway, not to the cameras or the people milling about. Not to the crowd or her team or even the heavy weight of the medal against her neck.

All she can see is the crowd parting like a lover’s legs, and the dark head slowly, carefully, making its way down to the front of the stands. The loose curls wild today in the heat and the excitement of the victory, falling softly over the jersey–a few years old now–her number on the front, her name spread across the back for all to see.

And then Kelley’s there, pulling herself up against the wall.

“Hey,” she grins and tilts her head up for a kiss as that long, dark hair falls to cover them, and then she’s looking up into the clearest, sharpest, bluest eyes she’s ever seen.

Hope just laughs. “Shift down a little,” she nods to Kelley’s left, where a photographer’s abandoned chair is free for the shorter woman to stand on. “So you can kiss me properly,” and there’s nothing the younger woman can do but to shimmy over until she’s standing, still on her tip-toes, and stretching up in to her partner’s embrace.

“You did it,” Hope whispers into her ear as Kelley’s fingers brush against her cheek, as they rest over the back of her neck, scratching softly at the little hairs there. Her girlfriend touches her brow, the tender bump there, and searches her eyes, looking for any sign that something is not right. But Hope finds none, and Kelley stretches up even more, and kisses her something fierce, not caring who will see, not caring if their not-very-secret relationship is finally and fully public at last.

“We did,” she nods, grinning up at Hope lovingly as the older woman’s finger traces the ribbon of her medal. “And I’m okay. I promise.”

She wants to pull herself up higher, vault over this barrier and pull Hope into a tight embrace, feel the curves of her body against her own. Feel–

“Someone’s quite excited,” Hope says, seeing the question in Kelley’s face, “been moving non-stop since Rose sealed the win,” and the defender can just see the slightest curve of her belly over the wall. Still a few months away from being real, from being in their arms.

Kelley grins and pulls herself up for another kiss–longer, sweeter. Full of months of missing this simple, easy love.

“That’s because she knows her mom is coming home,” she whispers over Hope’s lips, and knows there’s not a single thing in this world that could ever mean more that this woman, their child, the future they’re only just starting to build.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "She Dances," Josh Groban


	5. Sometimes You're an Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes you're an ocean  
>  Sometimes you're the sea  
> Sometimes just a raindrop on the street  
> Sometimes you're a river wide  
> You're a waterfall_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _O'solo. Kelley gives birth to a son_

After soccer. 

After France and Japan. 

After an international retirement, and then a domestic one, she’s finally ready.

For the next step.

The next chapter.

Except–

Except all those years of travel and training and she has no one to show for it. 

She’d had hope once, back when she’d had Hope, but that ended as all the others had. With sadness and regret and dreams headed in different directions. 

The decision to do this, to do this alone, it hadn’t been easy. But she’d wanted it–wanted him–more than all her reasons to wait for the right time, the right person, the right ending. 

And now he’s here. 

Six pounds of perfection in her arms.

Little dark wisps of hair that curl as they dry. 

The tiny hint of a tongue as he smacks his lips. 

And she loves him, more than she even thought possible. More than she ever could have imagined in the months of waiting, and watching her belly grow, her body change. Watching him move inside of her. 

“Hey,” Hope says from the doorway. 

Hope, who has been a lifesaver these last few months. The person she’d call in the middle of the night, the person who’d flown out to stay with her after she’d told her mother not to come, not when Erin’s wedding was so close. 

The one person she really, truly, wanted here with her. 

Here, with her.

“How are you doing? Getting acquainted?” Hope asks softly, setting down the soft stuffed animal she’s brought, and Kelley smiles up at her.

Her best friend. Here to celebrate this moment, this little boy in her arms.   
  
“Come here,” Kelley whispers to her, and holds out her hand, smiling when Hope looks at it suspiciously. “I promise, it’s not like the last time,” and Hope grins at her, at the memory of those long hours of labor. How Kelley had gripped her hand like a life preserver as she’d struggled and tried to bring her son into the world. 

“Thank you,” she says to her closest friend, seeing just how enraptured Hope is with the tiny, mewling boy. “I thought I could do it all alone, Hope,” Kelley whispers, tugging Hope closer, “but I was wrong.”

“I think I need you–we need you,” she admits, and in an instant, the pieces fall into place. All the things she should have done, should have said to Hope. 

But none of it matters because they have this, now. 

This, and whatever comes next.

“Here,” Kelley says softly, and hopes that Hope can hear the promises in her voice, “come hold him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Waves," Ira Wolf


	6. When the Day is Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Day is done, but love unfailing  
>  Dwells ever here;  
> Shadows fall, but hope, prevailing,  
> Calms every fear_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Hey! You're a very talented writer, enjoyed reading them (just saw the o'solo stories, I just discovered u :p) .... Can I suggest o'solo low key romantic dancing (no premise in mind) ?_

The lights are low, and most of the guests are gone. 

Just the most important ones remain. Your parents on the corner of the dance floor, your father twirling your mother gently, off-beat as ever. Your sister, heavy with child, leans against her husband and watches as your wife whispers in your ear, as you laugh softly and kiss her champagne-sweet lips.   
  
Somewhere in the back, the events staff has begun to stack up the chairs, and the DJ is long gone. The music that swirls around you, that keeps time with your heart is your brother’s doing–portable speakers and a playlist on your phone. The one so plainly labeled–”Hope.”

“Hey,” Hope whispers, and pulls you tight to her, until you’re pressed against the long line of her body, warm and familiar.   
  
“Hey, yourself,” you say and kiss her again, seeing the dark star-filled sky through the window beyond her and feeling the infinity of this moment, this day. Like the whole world is laid out before you, but it’s not something to be afraid of, the expanse or the unknown. Because you know now, you have faith now–every road before you will always lead back to her.   
  
“We did it,” your wife says, like she’s almost afraid to believe it, that it happened, that everything had gone of just the way you’d planned. “Everything was perfect.”

And you both know that that’s not quite true. The little mix-ups that had seemed so hopeless in the days leading up, the hours. A mix-up at the florist. One of the attendants forgetting her shoes back in New Jersey, proudly wearing a pair of joggers down the aisle. Marcus, down with food poisoning and unable to walk her down the aisle.   
  
But somehow, in the end, everything worked out. And when you think back on it in the years to come, all you’ll remember was how right it felt to walk down the aisle with her as your father led the two of you up the aisle. How her lip quivered when you said your vows. The way she smiled when she slipped the ring onto your finger. 

It had been perfect. 

And this moment, dancing barefoot in the reception hall, tired and happy and never wanting this night to end, you realize that this is what love is. This little moment, soft and gentle, this promise she makes against your skin, her fingertips a whisper along your arm. 

“We did,” you tell her, and take her hand, biting at your lip as you tug her off the dance floor, to the door, to the elevators and your room beyond. 

“Come with me, wife,” you whisper in her ear as your brother claps loudly and your parents call their love after you. 

She grins at you, Hope does, and squeezes your hand tighter as the elevator counts up the floors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Day is Done, But Love Unfailing," James Quinn


	7. All It Ever Was and Will Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If you ever need to feel a hand  
>  Take up your own  
> When you least expect  
> But want it more than you've ever known  
> Baby, here's that hand_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _O'Solo during Kelley's ankle surgery/recovery_

“There you are.”

You hear the voice through what feels like a thick, heavy fog. Heavy enough to press you down, to keep you still. You can’t move, you can’t do anything but breathe, but it’s okay, because you can hear her voice. 

You can hear her voice. 

It’s all you need to know that everything will be okay. 

You want to open your eyes, you want to see her. 

But the heaviness calls to you, pulls you deep and deeper. 

“Close your eyes,” she says, “get some sleep. I’ll be here.”

—–

Hope comes with you to every appointment, every PT session. 

And though there are times when you hate her for it, you always, always love her. 

Because she’s there for you, always. Just at the other end of your line of sight. A hand against yours. A shoulder to lean on. 

It’s curious, how she knows exactly when to pamper and when to push. How when you need a little softness she’s there with tea and blankets and a stupid movie, and the two of you cuddle into each other on the couch, your leg propped up carefully under a stack of pillows. 

And when you need an edge, she lends you hers, whispering “Come on, O’Hara,” in your ear as you do your exercises in the spare room. 

She spots you, holds out her hands to catch you, cheers you on from where she sits on the exercise ball just opposite you. 

She makes you believe that you can come back, better and stronger than ever before. And sometimes in bed, curled up next to her as she reads under the dim light of the bedside lamp, your eyes dampen with hot tears.

“What is it, Kel,” she asks you, “is it the pain? Did you forget to take your pill?” 

But you shake your head, and your whole heart is overflowing with emotions coursing through it. You don’t know if you’ve ever loved anyone this much. 

You don’t know if you ever will again.

“No,” you whisper thickly, “I was just thinking. Your name, it’s perfect. It’s just so perfect.” 

She doesn’t understand. Doesn’t know what it means to you to see her across the room, always encouraging you, always supporting you. She doesn’t understand, and you don’t quite know how to tell her yet.

But it’s okay. 

You know. 

And you’ll help her see.

—–

Your first day back is intimidating. 

You know you’re ready–more than. 

But the what ifs stick in the back of your head. And it’s harder, now, with Hope back in Seattle to train, to push them out. 

But drill-by-drill, you grow more confident. More sure. 

You’re going to be okay. You’re Kelley Fucking O’Hara (there’s a tiny bit of Hope that lives inside you now, reminding you when you forget) and you were born to be on this pitch. 

By the end of practice you’re exhausted and sore, but the good kind. The kind that means you’ve done your job well. The kind that means you’re perfectly okay. 

And that’s when you hear it, the clapping. The cheering. 

That’s when you see her, the figure standing right over at the entrance to the field. 

Hope. 

Hair blowing in the wind, smile almost bigger than her face should allow. 

Your Hope. 

And you’re tired and you’re sore, but you run to her. You leap and trust that she will always–always–catch you. 

And she does. 

“You’re supposed to be in training today,” you whisper against her neck as she laughs and settles your weight around her hips. 

“What, you think I would miss this? Your first day back? Never.” 

And there it is, the moment you’ve always known was coming. The last tumble down the beautiful hill. 

“Hope,” you whisper, seeing the fierce heat of love in her eyes.

This time she understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This is Love," Mary Chapin Carpenter


	8. Hallelujah, Sunday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You're a hallelujah, Sunday morning  
>  All I've ever needed, wanted  
> Underneath this pale moon sky  
> I'm gonna make you mine  
> Yeah, I'm gonna make you mine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Hope and Kelley on their honeymoon_

“What should we do today,” Hope asked softly before rolling on top of the woman in her bed.

“We could go sightseeing,” Kelley said with a smile. And she looked up at the woman she’d married less than a week ago.  
  
And Hope chuckled softly, holding herself up on her arms above her wife. “You’ve said that every morning since we got here,” she pointed out, but her tone was happy, amused. And she kissed Kelley’s jaw, her cheek, every bit of skin she could reach until the woman under her was pouting.   
  
“Kiss me,” Kelley grumbled up at her wife, “stop teasing, and kiss me.” But Hope still avoided her mouth with a sly grin. 

“You know that only gets us in trouble,” Hope whispered, lowering herself down to rest on top of her wife. “You say we’ll go sightseeing, I kiss you, we spend the whole day in bed.”   
  
Kelley shifted under her, bringing a knee up between Hope’s legs. Just a little pressure, a little teasing of her own.   
  
“So?” she pointed out, nonchalant, “you’ve got some of my favorite sites to see.” And Hope laughed, and kissed her, and neither of them got out of bed for quite some time after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "High Valley," Make You Mine


	9. Sits Beside Me Like a Silhouette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Driving me crazy, but I'm into it, but I'm into it  
>  I'm kind of into it_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Im lost in New York with nowhere to go - O'Solo**

“Lost like you don’t know where you are,” Kelley asked, “or lost like you don’t know what you’re doing?”

The chuckle on the other end of the line was tired, resigned.   
  
“Can it be both,” Hope asked, and there was something in her voice Kelley had never heard before.  
  
“What are you near,” she said, slipping on a pair of shoes and grabbing the keys to her car. “If you can give me the cross streets I can come and get you.”  
  
It took more than an hour to make her way through traffic, fighting the rush hour bottlenecks, but eventually she found Hope, sitting just outside of a Starbucks, an undrunk cup of coffee beside her. 

“Hey, there, keep,” Kelley said softly, taking a seat. “What’s got you down?”

She knew, of course. Everyone knew. The decision had been very public. She was surprised, in fact, to see that Hope had left the privacy of home. But for anyone who hadn’t spent years with her, at her side, maybe the baseball cap, the hooded sweatshirt, would be enough. Enough to keep them from noticing who they were passing by, seated next to. 

“It’s done,” Hope said softly. “Signed the paperwork today. Signed it and got on a plane. I don’t even think I realized where I was going until we landed.” 

And when she looked at Kelley, across the small table, her eyes are full of loss.   
  
“I’m glad, you know,” she added, “I’m happy. But still, there’s this part of me that’s upset. Just another thing I’ve managed to fuck up.”

“It’s okay to be upset about it,” Kelley offered, and reached for Hope’s hand. “Even if you’re happy it’s over.” She took a sip from the cup of coffee and grimaced. 

“It’s probably cold by now,” Hope said and laughed quietly. “I ordered it just after I called you.” And while she still looked upset, she smiled. 

“I am happy, Kelley,” she promised, and squeezed the other woman’s hand. “This isn’t where I planned to end up. But I’m glad I did.”

And Kelley knew she wasn’t talking about the Starbucks or the city. But something bigger, something more.

“Come on, Hope,” she said and stood, “the woman I love got divorced today. Let’s go celebrate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kiwi," Harry Styles


	10. Oh, Love, Do You Feel This Rough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And oh, love, watch the sun coming up  
>  Don't it feel fucked up we're not in love_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _O'Solo after Kelley gets hurt again my Chicago?_

Hope can’t call her.

It’s her own damned fault.

Kelley’d tried to help after the decision, tried to offer words of kindness, of support. She’d tried to say that they’d fight it, that Hope would be back in her US kit before anyone knew it.

But Hope had cut her off, thrown back the words Kelley was offering in support. Turning kindness into disdain, love into anger. Kelley gave her beauty and hope, and she gave nothing back in return but darkness.

Eventually, Kelley had stopped trying to call.

Hope soaks her heart in liquor and salt water, and tells herself that this is what she wanted anyway, to be left alone.

—–

Harvey told her to report in Monday, to take the weekend to get herself back together, and even though there was a part of Hope that wanted to be in the goal against Portland, to prove everyone wrong and play the best goddamned game of her life, she knew her coach was right. She hadn’t had a drink since Friday night, but she was in no shape to suit up. Not unless someone wanted to help prop her up in the goal.

But she watched her team play, and she knew, the looks on their faces, the ever-growing list of unanswered texts in her phone, that some of their fight is for her.

She watched Kelley’s game too. Even though her belly ached throughout, the memory of what she’d said, how she’d treated the woman she’d professed to love.

When Kelley came on after the half, she thought about sending a text, a single “I’m sorry,” in the hope that after, after the shower and the game notes and the drive home, Kelley would read it. That Kelley would forgive her.

But she can’t. She can’t do it. Her shame is too great, her pride too strong.

And so she watched, instead.  
—–

Hope looks away from the screen for a moment, just a single moment. And when she looks back, Kelley is on the ground in a ball, clutching at her leg and crying.

She can’t see much, but she can see the woman she loves tell their Captain that she can’t. Tell the trainer to stop. And Hope knows that this isn’t a slight knock down, knows that Kelley won’t be running back onto the pitch in a minute after she’s been cleared to return.

Hope watches the replay, again and again, trying to see from the only available angle what happened, if it’s her ankle or her knee. But as she watches Kelley carried off the field, all she can tell is that the season is over for the woman she loves.

She texts a few people she trusts, but no one knows anything more than she does. But she sees the picture of Kelley leaving the locker room on crutches, whole leg encased and immobilized, and she cries, holding her thumb over Kelley’s name in her contacts.

Hope doesn’t let herself press it, but she keeps her phone with her the rest of the night.

—–

“Torn ACL,” the voice says on the other end of the line, and it’s small and quiet and it takes Hope a minute to realize that it’s Kelley. Kelley, whose voice is usually confident and assured.

It’s just after two, Hope can see on her phone, and she reaches to turn on the gentle light next to her bed.

“Oh, honey,” she says softly, sitting up against the padded headboard, “I’m sorry.” And she listens to Kelley cry, recount the story of what happened, and wishes that desire and need were enough to get her to New Jersey right now, so that she could wrap her arms around the other woman and hold her tight.

But when Kelley offers a whispered “sorry” for waking her, Hope cuts her off.

“No, honey, I’m sorry,” she says, “I was upset and I took it out on you, and I’m so, so, sorry.”

The dogs stir as she gets out of bed, but she shushes them quietly and they settle again.

“I wanted to call you earlier, before the game, and then when I saw you go down,” she admits, “but I was ashamed of how I acted. I wasn’t a good partner.”

Kelley tries to wave the concern away, but Hope won’t let her. “Listen, if I fly in tomorrow morning, will you let me come see you?”

It’ll be too short, the visit, but Hope needs to see her, to apologize in person.

To be the partner she hadn’t let Kelley be for her.

She says yes. A mix of tears and snot–Hope can imagine Kelley’s beautiful, perfect face in this moment– but she says yes.

And Hope realizes:

It’s time to begin again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Too Much to Ask," Niall Horan


	11. 71:14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As for me, I will always have hope;  
>  I will praise you more and more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Kelley helping Hope de-stress_

After the game her body nearly vibrates with energy restrained. Goalkeeping is such a careful, sport. So precise, full of long periods of hovering just on the edge of action, punctuated by flurries of motion. Muscles bunching, releasing.

A leopard. The stalk, the pounce. 

And Kelley knows that Hope is angry.   
  
She can see it.

It’s in every careful, precise movement of her hands as she showers, as she dresses in the locker room after the game. It’s in the way her words are clipped, short. Her voice not so much a bell tonight, but a gong.   
  
Hope might have played the best game of her life tonight, but still, she’s angry with herself.

And there’s a part of Kelley that wants to shake her, this woman who demands so much. 

It was a good result. They won. They held France to a shut-out. 

Hope, herself, threw her body into the field time and time again, blocking every shot that came her way. 

But still, Hope will look for the mistakes. She’ll look for the flinches, the moments her form wasn’t ideal, the “almosts” and the “could have beens.”

Some of it is just who she is, Hope. A woman who expects only the best from herself, from everyone around her. 

But some of it is the crowd, the chant. The way their words rolled in the air, heavy and hard, every time she touched the ball. The look of pity on her teammates’ faces, her friends’.   
  
Kelley gives her space. Space and silence. Waiting for the signal, for the sign that Hope is ready. She sits with Mal on the bus, and tries not to send too many glances toward the back, where Hope sits with her headphones in and her eyes closed. 

—–

[ **_Ps 71:14_** _] Pool._

The text comes after dinner, after their break-down meeting with Jill and the information on the next day’s travel. And Kelley rises from her bed without a word, just a quick glance to see that Mal is already asleep, in for the night, before slipping on her sandals and quietly sneaking out into the hall. 

She passes Dawn and the trainers in a meeting, but they know where she’s going, who she’s going after, and let her go with a nod and a wave. They’ve all been together for years now, and this isn’t the first time Kelley’s been out after curfew on her way to Hope.   
  
It won’t be the last either. 

They know that too. 

—–

The sign on the door tells her the pool should be closed by now–it’s well after ten–but there’s a shoe wedged between the door and the frame, and Kelley knows, this, too, is a concession. 

To the woman she knows she’ll find inside, the position she plays, the solitude it demands, the reflection. 

To them, their relationship, even. Kelley knows, some of her value to this team is the way Hope responds to her, the way she seems to be able to soothe, to pull Hope out of her own head. She’ll never forget the first time Hope made a joke during the London Olympics, how she’d laughed hard enough that her sides hurt, how half the squad stopped and turned to stare at them in the back of the bus. 

“You don’t understand,” Carli had said to her one night, “Hope doesn’t make jokes generally, but she especially doesn’t crack jokes on the way back from a stadium walk-through before our Olympic opener.”

And it hit her then. 

What could be.

They make a good team, Kelley knows. How sometimes she pushes Hope forward. How sometimes Hope pulls her in.   
  
They find their balance, somehow, always. Even when it’s hard. Even when it seems the most impossible thing to do. 

She’s the waves. And Hope’s the moon. 

—–

She finds Hope floating on her back in the middle of the pool, looking up through the windowed-ceiling to the moon and the stars above. Quiet, peaceful; this is the Hope that Kelley treasures the most. Rare and private. 

This is the Hope that so few are ever blessed to know. 

“Hey,” Kelley says, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water, watching as Hope floats over, “Ready for company yet?” 

She looks tired, the goalkeeper. Tired, but at peace.   
  
For now, at least. 

“I took out my frustration on a bag, and then bullied Troy into putting on some gloves,” she said. “Got the anger out.”

Kelley pulls off her t-shirt and shorts, shucks her sandals, and slips into the water, not caring that she didn’t bring a suit. That she’s floating in a pool in her bra and panties. 

“You played good today, Hope,” she says as they float side-by-side, looking up at the sky. There’s a whole lot more she wants to say, but she holds back. Now isn’t the time for details. For minutiae. 

Now is the time to look up at the grandness of stars in the sky, of the moon as it disappears under the clouds. 

Now is the time to float, weightless, in the water with the woman she loves, to squeeze back when Hope reaches for her hand. 

Now is the time to just let go. 


	12. We're Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I was the one you always dreamed of  
>  You were the one I tried to draw  
> How dare you say it's nothing to me  
> Baby, you're the only light I ever saw_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _O'Solo: John Mayer - Slow dancing in a burning room_

“What do we do now,” she asks in the dark room. But she already knows the answer. 

They move on. 

They move forward.

They go to their separate homes in separate states and play for their separate teams. And when they see each other–one blue jersey, one white–they pretend it didn’t happen. 

They pretend that once again, they didn’t almost fall in love in the chase for gold. They pretend that there weren’t stolen moments and almost-kisses. 

They pretend that they never had a chance anyway.

And maybe they didn’t. 

Maybe that’s the truth–the lesson–they take away from this. 

Some things aren’t meant to be. 

—–

Kelley asks, and Hope doesn’t answer. 

There have been so many less-traveled roads in her life already. So many moments that could have changed everything. 

If she didn’t–

If she hadn’t–

If only–

And yet, here she is. Still. In the colors and the kit, her name in lights on the screen above the crowd. 

There’d been a plan, once. 

Fight and fight and fight, crawl and scrape and climb. 

To the top. 

And then, after, to be free. 

Honestly, she knows, she never should have gotten this far, this high. She should have fallen years ago. 

Would have, even. If not for a helping hand here and there. Just a little bit of hope to hold onto. 

She wants to tell Kelley yes. That it’s over, that they’ll part and be friends who once were a kind of could have been. And it would be easier, she knows. It would be easier. 

But she’s a fighter. 

If she wasn’t born one, she’s become one over the long and lonely years. And maybe she’s tired of fighting, and maybe she dreams of being free. 

But in her dreams, she’s never alone. 

Fight or free, in her dreams, Kelley’s always there. 

—–

“Wait,” Hope says, and reaches for the younger woman’s hand, “Kelley. Wait.”

Maybe this, she thinks, will make the difference. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room," John Mayer


	13. Until I Just Dissolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I believe, I believe in the things you do  
>  And I wanna believe you believe that too_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _kelley comforting hope after the game. hope says she doesnt care about the chanting but inside she does_

No one stands in her way as she heads into the locker room.

They know where she’s going, who she’s seeking out.

They know, too, like she does, that it might be too soon. That she might get anger for her effort.

Still, they know she’ll go anyway. Again and again, until the storm is over.

Until the blue waters are calm again.

—–

Kelley finds her in the shower, the water too hot and pounding against the floor as Hope stands just out of its reach.

And the heavy drops of wet that roll down her cheeks, that cling to the strong line of her jaw–Kelley knows, they’re not water from the shower.

“Hey,” she says softly, not wanting to startle Hope, stepping into the stall and pulling the door closed behind her.

If anyone else were to come in, to want a shower after ninety minutes in the Rio sun, they’ll see the two pairs of legs, the four feet, in the furthest stall. But Kelley knows that they’ll give her some time, and that even if anyone did come in, saw them, not a single word would ever be said.

“One down, three points in the book,” she says, still not moving closer. Still not certain whether Hope wants the comfort or the fight. And Kelley will give her either–she’ll give Hope whatever she needs–but she knows, only one of the choices will leave Hope feeling guilty and sulky and terrible tomorrow.

And the other will just leave her feeling loved.

“Off to a good start,” Hope answers with a small smile, one that Kelley knows she doesn’t really mean. And she knows, now, what Hope needs.

Love.

Comfort.

Reassurement.

—–

“Let me,” Kelley says, taking the bottle of shampoo that was in Hope’s hands.

She moves Hope under the water with a hand at the base of the taller woman’s spine, following closely behind.

“It was a good game, Hope,” she says quietly, pulling the band from Hope’s dark hair before pulling gently to turn her around. To face her.

“It was a good game,” she repeats, and combs through Hope’s hair with her fingers, getting it wet, before starting to massage the shampoo into the goalkeeper’s scalp.

And Hope lets her. This, Kelley knows, is the greatest of the gifts that Hope has given her. Love, yes, but more, but deeper, this trust. Trusting that with Kelley, she is safe and loved.

That she isn’t alone.

“They booed every time I touched the ball. And in the end, they were chanting zika,” Hope points out, leaning into Kelley, letting the younger woman support her weight as the water washes away the sweat from the game, the disappointment at once again, not being what the people wanted.

Kelley brushes some lather away from Hope’s eyes, and reaches for the gel, the loofah, hanging from the hook.

“I know, baby,” she says softly, beginning to move the soapy bundle up and down Hope’s back, pulling apart so she could wash her front. “But on the pitch, it doesn’t matter. You don’t let it matter. You showed them how strong you are.”

Hope sinks against Kelley again, suddenly exhausted. Ready to go back to their hotel, to slip between the covers and sleep, hopefully with Kelley at her side for a while.

Kelley feels the way the tension begins to slip from Hope’s body, the way they begin to sway back and forth to a rhythm all their own. And she walks them a step back under the water, washing the last of the shampoo from Hope’s hair.

“You can be strong out there, baby,” she says, holding Hope close under the warm water, “you can pretend that it doesn’t matter, use it to fuel the fire inside you when you’re in the box. Because I’m here for the after.”

Kelley feels the way Hope’s chest shakes against her, the way her jaw trembles where it rests on her own shoulder. And she knows, Hope is letting it all go.

“I’ll always be here for the after,” she whispers, and presses a kiss to Hope’s damp skin. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Paper Love," Allie X


	14. Counting Up the Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm staring down myself, counting up the years  
>  Steady hands just take the wheel  
> And every glance is killing me  
> Time to make one last appeal for the life I lead_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _O'Solo: Hope's Birthday_

**Thirty-Four**

She’s a world champion but she feels like her world is crumbling down.

She should be happy. She should be ecstatic.

Hoisting a World Cup trophy above her head.

A parade down the center of Manhattan.

But when she returns home, there’s something missing. Home doesn’t make her happy anymore.

Or, something about her home doesn’t make her happy anymore.

And it’s not the house. It’s not the dogs.

It’s not the way the sun sets and casts a glow into her library every evening.

It’s him.

It’s the man she married.

She’s thirty-four and she’s stopped dreaming of the future.

Stopped dreaming of a future with him, at least.

He’s not the person she wants to raise children with, not the one she wants to plan vacations and surprise on anniversaries. He’s not the face she sees growing old next to her, not the eyes she wants to wake up next to each morning.

She’s thirty-four and finally, maybe for the first time, she lets herself dream of the kind of life her heart wants.

  
**Thirty-Five**

The heat in Brazil is oppressive, especially through the layers she’s insisted on wearing in the face of the health threat in Rio.

And by the time they’re done for the day, she’s soaked, and exhausted, and absolutely not in the mood to celebrate.

Things were supposed to be better this year. She was supposed to pull her life together this year.

But the state decided to reinstate the charges against her, despite the original ruling. Despite the fact that no one will ever know what really happened that night. Because she won’t testify to it and Lord knows, no one else will.

And she’s not married anymore, but she’s not divorced yet either, the paperwork held in limbo while the lawyers try to hash out some arrangement that’s equitable based on their individual net worths.

Honestly, she’d sign away everything just to be done with it. With him. But the lawyer keeps telling her they’re close, almost there, and so she waits.

Her only sticking point were the dogs, anyway.

Showering, later, at the hotel, she wonders if she’ll ever be able to get it right, her life.

She’s here at the Olympic Games, poised on the edge of making history, and still, there’s something missing.

Someone, she forces herself to acknowledge. It nothing else, she should be honest with herself.

Later, she’ll go down for the inevitable celebration. Kelley will knock at her door and offer to escort her, and something about her friend’s gentle, eager smile will ease the ache in Hope’s heart.

She’ll sit next to Kelley at the table, and somehow that will make it bearable, the singing and the stories. Kelley will make the beginning of thirty-five seem like a gift, like a beginning, instead of just another interminable ending.

And later, when the moon is high and the slight buzz of their single glass of champagne is fading, the kiss on the cheek, Kelley’s present, will feel like pure potential, untapped and waiting.

  
**Thirty-Six**

This is the year she truly feels like a champion. The year she truly feels like she’s figured everything out.

Technically, she’s a thirty-six year-old childless divorcée. But technicalities don’t account for the sweet, loving wake-up that greets her in the morning. Or the excited wagging of tails that accompany her down the stairs as she starts breakfast while her lover showers.

They don’t take into consideration the way her heart skips a beat when warm arms wrap themselves around her waist as she stands in front of the stove, or the scent of her shampoo that lingers in the long, wet locks that dampen the shoulder of her sleep shirt.

They’ll celebrate her day quietly, she and the woman she loves. Spend their day on the deck of her boat, fishing and sunning and making love.

She’ll bring a book and read it while Kelley naps in her arms, and thank the stars that are still hiding under the cover of day for guiding her to this woman, this slow and happy life.

And when the moon comes out in the evening, as they dance together in her back yard, she’ll whisper her love into the night air, and smile when Kelley presses close, knowing that this kiss, this year, is the beginning of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stop and Stare," OneRepublic


	15. See Us As We Are Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They can see us as we are now  
>  Singin', dancin' in the small town  
> Celebrate the days into the night  
> Look around with wildest eyes_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Hope and Kelley have a hard choice to make_

“Shiloh,” Kelley suggested from across the table, but Hope shook her head.

“No way, that’s a dog’s name. Wasn’t there a movie, even?” the goalkeeper answered, spreading peanut butter across her pieces of toast. “What about Regan, it’s Irish.”

But Kelley looked at her, face scrunched up in disgust. “Everyone is going to think of the president, and that we can’t spell his name right. Oh, and isn’t that one of the evil daughters in Lear? No way.”

She gave a vehement shudder. There was no way they’d be naming their kid Regan. Not even if it’s Irish.

“Alright, what about Skye,” she countered, running a toe up and down Hope’s thigh.

But Hope sniggered.

“Only if her middle name is Reign. Skye Reign,” she answered, still laughing.

And Kelley smiled and joined her. “Sounds like an Olympian,” she added, “but one of those winter-sport athletes. Apolo Ohno, Picabo Street, Skye Solo.”

Hope just raised an eyebrow at the last name.

That’s an issue they hadn’t even broached yet.

“What about Madeline,” Kelley threw out, “Maddie?”

“Absolutely not,” Hope declared, “you already make too many dad jokes for a pregnant woman. I’m not subjecting our daughter to a lifetime of more based on her name.”

She passed a carton of juice across the table. “How about Maureen,” she countered, “I love your middle name and it would make your parents happy. Giving her a family name.”

But Kelley rolled her eyes. “Listen, Hope,” she said, “Mo Solo, Mo O'Hara, which’ll just end up Mohara. You gotta consider the nickname factor.”

“Mohara is kind of cute though,” Hope admitted, but crossed the name off her mental list.

“We’ve got some time still, you know,” Kelley said, and put her hand over Hope’s on the table. “A couple of weeks at least. And maybe we’re the kind of parents who don’t know until we see her. That’s okay too.”

But Hope looked across the table at her, eyes serious. “I want to know before she gets here. I want to know the first time I hold her.”

“Okay,” Kelley said, understanding, “I know we said no teammate names, but you and I both really love Alexandra. We could use that, let them all rumble over who it’s for until we tell them it’s not after any of them in particular.”

“Alex O'Hara,” Hope whispered softly.

And Kelley gripped her hand tighter. “Lexi Solo, our Alexandra.”

“Kelley,” Hope said, “we just named our baby.”

“Well, one-third of her, anyway,” Kelley pointed out, “but yeah, we did.” And she smiled widely, feeling the baby kick against her ribs. “I think she likes it through.”

And Hope laughed, rising and coming around the table to rest her head against Kelley’s belly.

“Our little Alexandra TBD O'Hara, we can’t wait to meet you,” she said, feeling Kelley’s hand come to rest in her hair from above.

“Solo,” Kelley teased in response, “but your mama’s right, Lex, we’re really excited to meet you.”


	16. Pride Is All I Got

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _"Here, take my blanket/jacket." — "I told you, I'm not cold." shivering_

“For the last time, I said no,” Hope grumped, and Kelley watched as her whole body went tense. Her shoulders hunched, and her head shifted, almost like it was too heavy for her to support any longer. 

Kelley sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. “Why,” she said, just shaking her head, “why do you always have to be so stubborn.” And she wanted to reach out, to run the tips of her fingers down Hope’s spine, rest her palm against the small of Hope’s back and let her warmth spread out from there into the older woman’s body. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Not like this.

“I’m not stubborn,” Hope turned her head to whisper, to glower at her shorter teammate, her friend, her almost and her could-be. If she would just let down those tall, tall walls to let Kelley in. And Kelley looked at her, and snorted. Actually snorted. Hope sneered at the gall of it.

“No,” Kelley drew out the syllable, “of course not. Nobody would ever say Hope Solo is stubborn.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, and extended her arm once again, the soft, warm blanket she’d packed in her carry-on. “You’re so cold I can see you shivering, but you won’t just take the damn blanket. You’re right—that’s not stubborn, that’s just stupid.”

Hope gawked at her. This woman—this ... this child—had the temerity to call her stupid. “I told you,” she lied through clenched teeth, “I’m. Not. Cold.” Each word was sharply punctuated, even as quiet as she tried to be, so as not to disturb the other passengers in front of them and behind.

Kelley just shrugged, giving up. If Hope wanted to fall on this sword, make a mountain out of this molehill, Kelley would let her.

“Fine then,” she said simply, though her calm exterior belied the anger and annoyance she was feeling at Hope’s inability to ask for help, to accept it. “Be that way.” She unfolded the blanket, which was large enough to cover her from shoulder to toe, and spread the fleecy warmth out over herself, putting her headphones in and very pointedly burying herself in a book.

Hope just grimaced to herself, wrapping her arms tight around her chest and turned toward the tiny airplane window again, watching the endless expanse of blue-grey nothingness stretch on for as far as she could see, and willed sleep to come.

— — —

Hope didn’t know how long she’d been asleep but when she woke the cabin was dark, lit by only the dim track lighting that ran up and down the aisles, and the few passengers still awake and using their seat lights. But what caught her attention wasn’t the man across the aisle watching a movie on his tablet, or the soft chatter from a few rows behind. 

It was the warmth.

She looked down and blushed. At some point, while she’d been asleep, Kelley had taken her blanket and carefully covered her up, tucked her in, even.  
Hope bit her lip, looking over to where Kelley’s head had fallen forward onto her own chest, book laying open in her lap. The older woman closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back to how ridiculous she had been about it all. And how Kelley had, despite it all, taken care of her, looked out for her. 

She shifted, turning toward Kelley as much as the uncomfortable airplane seat would allow, and slowly, carefully drew the younger woman closer, until Kelley’s head was resting against her side. And then, just as slow, lifted the blanket, arranging it so that it lay over them both. 

“Mmmm,” Kelley hummed softly against her, but Hope just stretched her arm across the smaller woman’s shoulders, holding her close. 

“Shhh,” she whispered softly, “I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Mercy (Acoustic Guitar),” Shawn Mendes


	17. Pride is All I Got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

“For the last time, I said no,” Hope grumped, and Kelley watched as her whole body went tense. Her shoulders hunched, and her head shifted, almost like it was too heavy for her to support any longer.

Kelley sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. “Why,” she said, just shaking her head, “why do you always have to be so stubborn.” And she wanted to reach out, to run the tips of her fingers down Hope’s spine, rest her palm against the small of Hope’s back and let her warmth spread out from there into the older woman’s body. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Not like this.

“I’m not stubborn,” Hope turned her head to whisper, to glower at her shorter teammate, her friend, her almost and her could-be. If she would just let down those tall, tall walls to let Kelley in. And Kelley looked at her, and snorted. Actually snorted. Hope sneered at the gall of it.

“No,” Kelley drew out the syllable, “of course not. Nobody would ever say Hope Solo is stubborn.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, and extended her arm once again, the soft, warm blanket she’d packed in her carry-on. “You’re so cold I can see you shivering, but you won’t just take the damn blanket. You’re right—that’s not stubborn, that’s just stupid.”

Hope gawked at her. This woman—this … this child—had the temerity to call her stupid. “I told you,” she lied through clenched teeth, “I’m. Not. Cold.” Each word was sharply punctuated, even as quiet as she tried to be, so as not to disturb the other passengers in front of them and behind.

Kelley just shrugged, giving up. If Hope wanted to fall on this sword, make a mountain out of this molehill, Kelley would let her. “Fine then,” she said simply, though her calm exterior belied the anger and annoyance she was feeling at Hope’s inability to ask for help, to accept it. “Be that way.” She unfolded the blanket, which was large enough to cover her from shoulder to toe, and spread the fleecy warmth out over herself, putting her headphones in and very pointedly burying herself in a book.

Hope just grimaced to herself, wrapping her arms tight around her chest and turned toward the tiny airplane window again, watching the endless expanse of blue-grey nothingness stretch on for as far as she could see, and willed sleep to come.

— — —

Hope didn’t know how long she’d been asleep but when she woke the cabin was dark, lit by only the dim track lighting that ran up and down the aisles, and the few passengers still awake and using their seat lights. But what caught her attention wasn’t the man across the aisle watching a movie on his tablet, or the soft chatter from a few rows behind.

It was the warmth.

She looked down and blushed. At some point, while she’d been asleep, Kelley had taken her blanket and carefully covered her up, tucked her in, even.

Hope bit her lip, looking over to where Kelley’s head had fallen forward onto her own chest, book laying open in her lap. The older woman closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back to how ridiculous she had been about it all. And how Kelley had, despite it all, taken care of her, looked out for her.

She shifted, turning toward Kelley as much as the uncomfortable airplane seat would allow, and slowly, carefully drew the younger woman closer, until Kelley’s head was resting against her side. And then, just as slow, lifted the blanket, arranging it so that it lay over them both.

“Mmmm,” Kelley hummed softly against her, but Hope just stretched her arm across the smaller woman’s shoulders, holding her close.

“Shhh,” she whispered softly, “I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Mercy," Shawn Mendes


	18. Cardinal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Osolo i'm not wearing th at_

“I’m not wearing that,” Hope looked down at the hoodie Kelley had just handed her.

The younger woman gave an impatient huff and gestured with it again, moving closer.

“Seriously, Kelley, I’m not wearing that,” she repeated. Her mind was made up, everything about her voice, her stance, the look on her face said so.

Everything except for the small tremble of her limbs, the quaver of her lips.

Kelley sighed and began to unfold the hoodie, holding it out again. “Listen, Solo, you dragged me out on this hike and didn’t bother checking the weather. You can either wear the extra hoodie I packed and be warm and dry, or you can walk the whole three miles back to the car shivering because you insisted on me getting most of that stone ledge we found.”

Hope scowled, and after a long, long moment, reluctantly accepted the hoodie, stripping off the shirt soaked all down the back, where the downpour had caught her, and pulling it over her head.

“If anyone—I mean anyone—,” she glared at Kelley, “gets wind of this… If you take one single picture …. you’re sleeping with the dogs for the rest of your visit.”

Kelley laughed and hugged her close, kissing her jaw right next to the soft cardinal red fabric of the hood. “No promises,” she whispered, and then let Hope go, skipping ahead up the trail before turning to her girlfriend and giving her a wink.


	19. Running Reds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _“Why do you never let me drive?” or “You know you just ran that red light.”_

“You know you just ran a red light, right?” Erin said as she gripped the handle of the passenger door even tighter. “Like full on red.”

But Hope just swore and took the next turn even faster.

“Oh, my God,” the younger woman bit her lip, “I should have driven—I would have been fine. At least we would have gotten there alive.”

But Hope saw the grimace out of the corner of her eye, the way the pain gripped her whole body and knew that wasn’t true.

“It’s probably just Braxton-Hicks,” Erin continued, “the doctor said that could happen.”

“Probably,” Hope agreed as she turned onto the street where the hospital was, putting the car into park in front of the Emergency Admit entrance. But Hope remembered Braxton Hicks well from her pregnancy with the twins, and how different labor felt. This, she was certain, was labor.

“But still, Kelley asked me to look after you while she’s at camp and Derek is away, and even if it turns out to be false labor,” Hope rubbed her almost sister-in-law’s hand as an orderly came rushing out with a wheelchair, “better safe than sorry. You know how she gets when she’s angry.”

Erin nodded, and with wet eyes, she let the herself be helped out of the car. “She’s gonna be pissed when she hears about the red light,” the younger woman gave Hope a watery grin, and the soccer player couldn’t help it—she laughed.


	20. Rock 'Em Sock 'Em

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _"They are definitely your kids"_

“They are definitely your kids,” Hope sighed as she put one of their toddlers back down after kissing away a bump on his knee. The little boy immediately ran off, chasing after his twin brother.

“Hey,” Hope called after the rambunctious three-year-olds, “slow down before you trip again.”

Kelley watched it all with a wide grin, stepping close to Hope to lay her head on her wife’s shoulder, thinking back over the last four years. From conception, to Hope’s long pregnancy. The birth of the boys, and the ups and downs of raising two babies at once. Every time Hope said something like that, it fed the spark of love in her chest, chasing away all the doubts from people who didn’t understand, who asked “which one of you carried,” or “no, I mean, who’s the birth mom?”

The doubts were small, but on the darkest of days, they seemed insurmountable. And so every little reminder from her partner that she, too, was a mother to this little family of theirs, it made the light stronger, and the shadows smaller.

There was a thump as Ryan—complete with the Duplo bucket over his head—ran straight into the wall, Tyler giggling right behind him.

Their eldest son giggled as well as he picked himself up, straightened his makeshift helmet, and started the chase all over again.

“Yeah,” Kelley leaned into Hope and kissed her jaw, “they are.”


	21. Love Fresh as the Morning Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _kelley's favorite way to wake up are those long, lazy mornings wrapped up in hope with the sound of rain against their windows._

The sky is grey and dark when she wakes up, heavy clouds blocking the light from the rising sun. And when she looks out the big windows facing the bay, the water is churning, the wind and the rain warring with the waves.

But inside, she is sleepy and warm. There is no rain but the harsh sound of it upon the sky light above the bed, no wind but the gently feel of Hope’s steady breath against her shoulder.

The covers are pulled up high, warding off the hint of November chill in the air lately, and though she’s lost a sock somewhere during the night, her toes are warm, tucked between Hope’s long legs.

This is the kind of morning that she loves. When the world cocoons them in, gives them every reason to stay, to be slow with each other. To linger and to love.

There will be dogs at the side of the bed soon, licking at their faces, eager to be let out, to be fed. And she’ll lay a gentle hand over Hope’s heart, and whisper “Let me” as the woman she loves prepares to shake off the fog of sleep.

Because soon enough, the dogs will be content, and she’ll be slipping back into bed with a Hope who’s not quite asleep, but definitely not awake. And she’ll sit there, sipping coffee against the headboard, with Hope’s head pillowed in her lap, fingers tangled in messy dark locks, as she sips and watches and waits.

The storm outside, the paradise within.

Love, slow and sweet and lasting.


	22. Hopelessly Devoted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _Oh, no, I'm Hope-less_

It’s a beautiful day in Georgia. The dogwoods in the yard heavy with their bright blooms, the sky an unyielding blue under the sweet late morning sunshine. 

It’s a beautiful day to pledge her heart to another, a beautiful day to vow to love and cherish, in sickness and health, as long as they both shall live. 

And longer, Hope knows. Longer.

Because what is in her heart is the forever kind of love. 

The kind of love she never thought she’d find. 

Until it had found her, until it had found her and wanted her and made her believe. 

Until Kelley. 

Kelley who changed her world. 

—–

A baby cries out in from the neat rows of people gathered to watch them say their vows, and from the corner of her eye, Hope sees Ali, blushing, rise. 

“It’s okay,” she says softly, hoping her teammate will hear across the chairs, and though Ali doesn’t, Ash does, and gives her a grateful smile. And in a moment, Ali is sitting again, daughter neatly tucked under a blanket as the defender feeds her, and the butterflies in Hope’s chest give a powerful flutter. 

And then there’s music, upbeat and joyful, and the butterflies flap their wings in time with the beat, or maybe it’s just her heart, powerful and happy and ready. 

“Let’s go get married,” Kelley whispers in her ear, and Hope squeezes her hand, afraid that if she opens her mouth, the butterflies will fly out, and she can’t risk that, not today. 

Not today. 

But then Kelley stretches up, revealing bare toes wiggling in the grass beneath the long skirt of her ivory sundress, and kisses her gently on the cheek, and Hope knows–this happiness will be with her forever. 

She has nothing to fear. 

There are no butterflies, only love. Only the way that her love for this woman makes her feel–light and airy. Like she’s spent her whole life trying to figure out how to live on the ground, and only just learned how to open her wings, how to live and fly and be free. 

And it’s Kelley who’s taught her, who’s been at her side the whole way. And maybe Kelley didn’t change her–but Kelley made her want to change. Kelley’s love made her want to change, to grow, to be better. 

How to love. 

Their cue is coming up, their signal to take the short walk toward forever, toward the minister at the front and the rings and the vows, but Hope can’t move yet, can’t start this journey without telling Kelley, without saying this one thing. 

“I’m so happy it’s you,” she says, a roughness to her voice. 

And Kelley smiles up at her, and kisses her again. 

“It’s always been you,” she answers, and Hope squeezes their hands again. 

“That’s our cue.”

—–

“But most of all, I am proud–honored–to share this moment with all of you. Our dearest family, our closest friends. We are so blessed to have you in our lives.”

Kelley sits down and Hope leans over to kiss the side of her neck. 

“You give a good speech,” she whispers before taking another sip of champagne, and Kelley laughs. 

“Only because you refused to do it,” the shorter woman teases, and suddenly there’s a warm palm resting along the inside of Hope’s thigh that makes her shiver with desire. 

“You know me, I’m useless at speeches.”

But Kelley laughs. “I think the word I’d use is hopeless. My Hopeless Hope,” she whispers, and laughs again at the pout on her wife’s face. 

And Hope would give a playful protest, but she’s distracted by the hand moving steadily up her thigh and the interruption from the DJ, who’s just announced that it’s time for their first dance. 

—–

When the music starts, Hope laughs. 

Because this isn’t the song they’d agreed upon. 

Because Kelley is standing there with her, beautiful and hers, smiling and happy and mischievous all at once. 

“The Megs made me do it,” she confesses as the DJ congratulates them once again and they start their dance. “I may have gotten drunker than I planned on at my bachelorette party and told the story of how I used to sing this to you to get you to wake up back in London and how you hated it.”

Hope remembers–how could she forget, it had been the start of everything–and smiles down at her wife as they sway back and forth under the sparkling fairy lights. 

“Tell you a secret,” she says, bending her head to whisper in Kelley’s ear. “I loved every minute of it.”

And Kelley laughs, and starts to hum, as Hope lowers her head to kiss her wife, hearts perfectly in sync as they dance and laugh and love. 

Hopelessly devoted to you.


	23. I Know a Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written after the attack at Pulse.

“Can you hug me please?” Kelley looked up at Hope’s eyes, begging silently to be held.

And Hope just nodded, pulling the smaller woman into her arms, right against her chest. 

"What’s wrong,“ she asked after a few minutes, whispering the words into Kelley’s hair, stroking a hand up and down the younger woman’s back as they stood and swayed together on the front porch. 

"I just,” Kelley started to answer, but paused. Like she wasn’t certain of what to say, how to explain what she was feeling, what had unbalanced her so. 

“I missed you,” she answered at last, brushing her cheek against the soft cotton of Hope’s shirt. 

Hope dropped her carry-on and pulled Kelley over to the porch swing, down onto her lap as she sat. 

She understands. Sometimes the world feels too big, too unknown. Sometimes something just feels off, out of sync. And it doesn’t feel right again until someone else grounds you with the steady beat of their heart against your ear, the familiar comfort of their scent, their steady hand at your back. 

She’ll sit here as long as Kelley needs. 

Until the world feels right again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I Know a Place," MUNA


	24. Baby, Pull Me Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is the panther in the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt**   
>  _The first time Kel sees hope in her panther kit (all black keeper uniform) ... damn my girl is sexy_

She’d sent you a picture when they first came in, but it hadn’t prepared you for this. How she looks standing there with the sun at her back. 

God, she’s majestic, this woman you love. 

The black of the kit, the sleek white strips along her arms. On someone else, you’d call them markings, the kind of evolutionary advantage that helps to keep predators away. 

But Hope.

She is the predator. 

She is the panther in the trees, patient, and waiting. Muscles coiled, hovering on the edge of release, of attack. 

The way she moves, it’s with the smooth confidence of knowing–she’s no one’s prey. 

You feel the arousal shudder through you. 

You feel yourself respond to the thoughts you’re struggling so hard to bury. 

But God, you can almost feel her breath against you. Almost feel the brush of her fingers against your belly, slipping through the silken heat of your wetness. 

And you grip the railing tighter–ninety minutes. You just have to last ninety minutes and then you can sneak out to her truck, take the wheel and drive to her place. Stop at some hidden embankment on the side of the road, and let your hands roam, taste the sweat at her neck. 

Just enough to tide you over until you can leap up and into her arms, kissing her frantically, pulling at her shirt, until she’s naked under you, back arching and breasts heaving with the effort of keeping herself under control. 

The same kind of control you need now.

You stand there for a moment, trying to decide which of the two options before you would be more satisfying and less embarrassing, and don’t notice the shadow at your side until it’s pressing you against the cool concrete of the tunnel to the locker room. 

“Saw you watching me,” she whispers seductively in your ear, your beautiful Hope, and you smile. You’re just fine being her prey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Closer," The Chainsmokers

**Author's Note:**

> Some fic was originally posted as individual pieces. Sorry for the reposts.


End file.
